


Winters Hold the Longest Night

by verfound



Series: Winters 'Verse [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Exophilia, F/M, Fantasy AU, Holiday Misunderstandings, Interspecies Relationship(s), LBSC SFC Secret Santa 2020, LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge, Mistletoe, Naga Luka Couffaine, Pt 3 is Explicit, Rest is M/T at best, Snakefolk brumate through Christmas, What is Christmas, Witch Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Yuletide, snakelets on the way, that's not how you make cookies luka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: The nights are getting longer, and colder, and Luka is more than happy to stay coiled up in their nice, warm nest to wait out the longest night of the year with his new mate.  But Marinette is human, and Marinette is a witch, and Marinette is excited to celebrate Yule with her new…friend.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Winters 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059803
Comments: 25
Kudos: 120
Collections: LBSCSprintFicChallenge





	1. The First Yule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChromeMist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeMist/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS, CAP’N!!!!!!!! Trying to hit two of your prompts here: (1) anything supernatural/monsters/mythological. Maybe learning each other's way of celebrating the holiday/season; and (2) domestic fluff! Marinette getting carried away decorating their house during their first Christmas being married. And because I’m ~~STUPID~~ ambitious, I thought it would be great to set this during the Winters ‘verse? Except I failed majorly at the whole “sprint fic” thing. xD
> 
> So just a reminder: the LBSC Sprint Challenge ‘Guidelines’ are 45m (three fifteen-minute sprints) to write/draw and 24h to edit/finish/post. The challenge this week was an in-house Secret Santa event, with your prompts being supplied by your giftee. The story being limited to three sprints…did not happen here. xD My original plan was to have the first sprint cover their first winter together (remember, when he thought they were totally mated and she was worrying about how she was going to get him to stay past winter, bc she was falling in love with him and had no idea she’d already proposed by naga customs?), the second cover their second winter (when Rose was giving them Sex Tea and they were finding ways around the brumation), and the third being set either when she’s pregnant or actually had a snakelet. And then I started writing that first winter from Luka’s POV, and the next thing I knew I was three sprints in and still on that first winter. [/fail]
> 
> The bulk of Ch1 WAS written during those 45m, but then I probably added on another sprint or two’s worth of words to wrap it up. And because I still wanted Christmas Winters, I just…kept writing. xD I have four parts planned out for this, and it’s all about half done? I’m aiming to have the rest up the next few Sundays/Wednesdays. So. Knit. You have a few days of fic ahead of you yet. xD
> 
> ~~Also I am SO MAD because I totally wanted to title this “Knit’s Christmas Shit”, but then you had THOSE PROMPTS and WINTERS and OH WELL…~~

When Luka woke up, he was alone.

That wasn’t entirely unusual, especially this deep into the winter. His _sleeping schedule_ , as Marinette would call it, was practically nonexistent (or maybe _too_ existent) when all he seemed capable of doing was sleep. He was used to waking up alone and going to bed alone. He usually awoke at some point during the night, after Marinette had joined him in their nest, but only just enough to pull her closer.

It was just his luck he would choose a witchling for a mate. If she were a nagi, she would be brumating, too, and they would spend the season coiled around each other in their warm, cozy nest while the cold outside passed. But if she was a nagi, she wouldn’t be _Marinette_. He would take his winter cuddles where he could get them, if it meant they came from Marinette. He wouldn’t change his mate for anything.

So he wasn’t entirely concerned when he woke and his arms were empty. He was slightly more concerned when he sluggishly crawled his way out of the nest to find the cottage beyond the curtain was also empty. But only slightly: Marinette wasn’t as susceptible to the cold as he was, and she still ventured beyond the cottage at times. There was a store of firewood around the back of the cottage, and she still sometimes traveled into the village or the Forest when needed. She never went far, and she always came home.

He wasn’t worried.

…he was more worried when he awoke again, hours later, to the fire glowing low in the grate and the cottage around him still empty. The curtains were drawn to keep in the heat, but the bright glow of the winter sun was missing from their edges. It was dark outside, and the wind was howling along the thatched roof. A chill coursed through him just hearing it.

Marinette was still gone.

He shouldn’t worry.

He _was_ worried.

Marinette was a strong, capable witch. She could handle herself.

It was dark, and it was cold, and his mate was _gone_.

She was fine. She was always fine.

He had to find her.

He was reaching for his cloak by the door – the one she had enchanted in the fall to give him extra warmth, when the weather had started to turn and he’d first expressed his displeasure at the cold – when the door smacked open. He leapt back as a gust of wind howled through the cottage, extinguishing the dying fire and bringing with it a swirl of snow from the drifts along the path. The snow hadn’t been there…yesterday? He thought he had awoken yesterday, but it had possibly been the day before. The wind also carried with it an achingly familiar, undignified _squeak_ , and he blinked blearily at the door as a cloaked figure scurried inside, pushing its full weight against the wind and the door to close it again.

“There!” Marinette said softly as she secured the latch. She removed her hood and looked over her shoulder, frowning at their nest. “I hope I didn’t wake…eeep!”

He was already beside her, crushing her against him as he pressed his face against her neck. Gods, she was _freezing_. She dropped the basket she’d been carrying as he hauled her into his coils, sinking back and holding her close.

“Where have you been?” he murmured, a chill coursing through him as the snow from her cloak melted against his skin.

“Luka!” she cried, squirming. “Let go – I’m soaked! You’ll get sick, and you can’t afford to get sick, and –”

She stopped when he nipped at her neck, his fangs grazing against the scrap of skin above her collar, just below her jaw. She shivered, though he was sure it had nothing to do with her wet clothes or the cold. He wanted to smile at that, but his mind was sluggish and he was still upset over how long she’d been away. She settled back against him, sighing as his arms wormed their way into her cloak.

“…you left,” he said. She squirmed to better face him, but his arms tightened around her, holding her still.

“I meant to be back sooner,” she said. “I got caught in the storm.”

“Why’d you go?” he asked. Now that she was home, the initial fear was passing, and exhaustion was quickly replacing it. He fidgeted with her cloak, trying to remove it to find his warm (…well, momentarily, _not so warm_ ) mate underneath. This time, when she pushed against him, he let her pull away – but it was only so she could remove the cloak and her boots. The hem of her dress was still snow-damp, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She was back in his arms a moment later, and he sighed as he wrapped himself around her. “Ssssscared me. Gone too long.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, kissing his cheek. He hummed and caught her mouth instead, smiling at her little squeak when he kissed her. “I-I meant to be back sooner.”

She still blushed at his affections. He loved it.

(He supposed it was only natural, though. While he had spent most of the previous season with her, they had only _just_ mated before he’d entered his brumation – and that had come on so quickly they hadn’t actually…well. They hadn’t _properly_ mated yet, which would have to wait until spring thanks to his winter-slowed body, but she was still his mate. He was certain of that. Still, it was _new_ : the living together, the sleeping together, the kissing…so it was only natural that she would still blush. Humans were weird like that.)

“You’re home now,” he sighed, nuzzling his face against her shoulder. She shifted on his tail, turning to better lean on him. Her hand came up to tangle in his hair, and he hissed softly as he leaned into her touch. “Why’d you go?”

“I had to gather supplies,” she said. She giggled softly, and he smiled at the sound. He adored her laugh, high and clear like birdsong echoing on a warm summer’s day. He loved it even more when he was the one making her laugh. “It’s almost Yule, and I’m so under-prepared. I’ve been a bit disorganized this year, what with the move and…everything. Still, I love Yule, and it won’t do to have a dark home at Yuletide!”

…Yule?

He lifted his head to stare at her, blinking quizzically. He was certain he had heard the word before, but it was foreign to him. He had never spent a winter around a human – around _anyone_ – before, so he was unfamiliar with winter events and customs. She was squirming again, trying to pull away from him to reach for her basket, and he hissed as he pulled her closer.

“Sssstay,” he entreated – whined, really. She was giggling again.

“Luka,” she sighed, nudging him with he shoulder. He hissed and bumped his forehead against the back of her head. “Don’t you want to see what I’ve brought? Besides, the fire’s out. It’s going to get cold in here if I don’t restart it. Come on. Let me up.”

He knew she was right – he was already cold, and her damp dress wasn’t helping any – but he was loathe to release her.

…he had been _scared_ , irrational as it was. He wanted to keep her close.

“Fine,” he sighed, “but…can I hold you? After?”

Her cheeks flushed a dark red, but she was smiling as she nodded and said, “Let me change out of this wet dress, and then we can…we can warm each other up?”

He really liked the sound of that.

“Go change,” he said, pulling her close for a kiss. Her blush was darker when he pulled away. “I’ll light the fire.”

She kissed him again before standing, and a happy little thrill ran through him. He loved when she kissed him – when she initiated things. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was naturally a little shy or because of how new things still were between them, but she always seemed… _hesitant_ to do so, preferring to let him take the lead. He hated the winter: he’d be leading them much quicker if he wasn’t so damned tired all the time. If his body was functioning proper…well. If his body was functioning like it properly did in the summers, when he could show her…

…it was foolish to dwell on such things, though. Spring would come quickly enough, and then…well.

She picked up her basket, and with a smile tossed back at him over her shoulder she finally moved away from the door. He followed after her, moving towards the fire as she put her basket on the table. She disappeared into their nest a moment later, and after the fire was lit he went to join her. They almost crashed into each other by the curtain.

“…what are you doing?” he asked, frowning. She had changed into her nightgown, her heavy pink dressing gown tied over it.

“What are _you_ doing?” she asked instead of answering. When he continued to frown, she nodded towards the fire. “I’m hungry, Luka. Some of us still eat during the winter. Besides, I still have a lot to do. I wanted to get some of the holly up tonight.”

“Holly?” he asked. She reached for his hand, smiling softly as she squeezed his fingers and led him to the table. He followed after her immediately, willingly. He would always follow her.

“For Yule, silly,” she said. There was that word again. _Yule_.

“I…I don’t undersssstand,” he said. She paused, a clump of holly halfway out of the basket. “What is _Yule?_ ”

“…Solstice, Luka,” she said. When he continued to stare at her, no sign of recognition on his face, she frowned. “Don’t…don’t you celebrate Yuletide? The Winter Solstice?”

“I ssssleep during winter,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t cccelebrate anything.”

“…oh,” she said, her voice flat. She looked back at her basket, still frowning. He didn’t like when she frowned – and he really didn’t like that he was the cause of it. He slithered closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She made a low noise, almost a whine, when he nuzzled her neck.

“It’sss important to you.” he said, and she hummed noncommittally. As if she was trying to convince him it wasn’t. “Please, Marinette. What is it?”

“It’s…it’s _Yule_ ,” she sighed, as if that should explain everything. Perhaps for her it did, but he was still confused. He nudged his nose against her shoulder, and she slumped against him. She was still holding the holly. “Do you know what Solstice is, at least?”

“In theory,” he murmured. He knew the technical aspects of it, at least, even if he didn’t understand what it meant to her. “The longesssst night and day of the year. I have never been fully awake for it in the winter. It is too dark. Too cold. I sssleep, and I dream of the ssssun returning.”

“And for summer?” she asked. She tried to turn towards him, but he was comfortable and held her tight. He nuzzled her neck, and she hummed as her hand found its way into his hair again. He loved when she did that: the gentle caresses, the brushing of her fingers through his hair. It was…nice. Soothing. Enough to lull him back to sleep, if he wasn’t careful.

“We ccccelebrate,” he said, focusing on her question instead of the gentle tugging through his hair. “Biiiig fessstival. We dancccce, and we sssssing, and we cccccelebrate the life the sssssummer brings. A lot of food – big feasssst. It is a long day, and a sssshort night. You would love it.”

“I’d like to see it,” she said, her voice quiet and thoughtful. As if she were trying to picture what the festival could be like. He squeezed her middle and pressed his smile to her neck, imagining her in her shorter summer dresses, bright pinks and gold as she danced with Rose among their family…as she danced with _him_ , until the day was spent and the night had come. And then they would sneak away, for a more private dance, and…

The Summer Solstice was a celebration of life and new beginnings. He very much wanted to celebrate both with his new mate.

“You will,” he said lowly, voice thick with want. She sighed and twirled the holly in her other hand, and he wasn’t sure if she hadn’t heard him or if she was too lost in her own thoughts of that coming day. “Is that how you cccelebrate the winter? Your… _Yule?_ ”

“Not quite,” she said. “It’s…it’s a time of celebration and reflection. It’s the longest night of the year, but after…the nights get shorter. The days get warmer. We celebrate the coming the of the light by remembering the night. Birth and rebirth. Life. There are songs – you would like the songs.”

He chuckled and kissed her neck. He did have an affinity for music…

“And we bake! Oh, you should taste the cakes my Papa makes. He shapes them like Yule logs, and he gives them to everyone in our…my old village,” she said. He didn’t miss the slip: she got that way sometimes, homesick for the family and friends she had left behind in the Citadel. He never held it against her. There were times he still missed his home by the sea. “We have a big dinner, with the entire family. Maman cooks for _days_. We decorate our homes, and we welcome our family, and we celebrate the coming light together.”

“It ssssounds lovely,” he murmured, nuzzling her. She squirmed, once again trying to twist to see him, but he held her steady, his face still pressed to her shoulder. She sighed, tugging his hair and holding up the holly.

“That was why I left today,” she continued, spinning the sprig. Her smile had softened, and she relaxed against him. “I was gathering decorations. I was hoping to get home before you woke, but I got caught in the storm. I don’t think I can bring a whole tree back, but I did find a good copse of evergreens. I wanted to go back tomorrow to get some cuttings for wreaths, but with this storm…”

“Don’t go,” he said, holding her closer. “Please. Ssstay with me. Where it’ssss ssssafe.”

“It can wait until the storm passes,” she said, and he grunted. He’d prefer her not go at all, but he knew he couldn’t stop her. Just as he knew she could protect herself.

…but she was still his mate, and it was instinct to worry about her – especially when he was like this and couldn’t protect her.

“I have enough to work on tomorrow,” she said. “I can wait until the storm passes. When it’s _safe_.”

He glanced up in time to see her roll her eyes. He nudged her jaw with his nose, and when she turned her head towards him he kissed her. His hand slipped inside her dressing gown, finding her hip and settling there.

“Humor me,” he entreated, nipping lightly at her lip. She sucked in a breath, and he kissed her a bit deeper.

“…always,” she whispered on a sigh when he pulled away, and he smiled as that happy little thrill ran through him again. He still wasn’t quite sure what happy twist of fate had brought her to his woods that day – had brought her to this sleepy village, so far removed from the bustling metropolis she had called home for the vast majority of her life – but he was eternally thankful to whatever deity had led Marinette to him.

She was a gift. One he intended to cherish forever.

She settled against him, her arms slipping around his middle with a contented little sigh, and he shivered when her fingers began dancing along the line where scales met skin. She tipped her head back, frowning at him when he shivered again.

“You’re cold,” she said, and it wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact. He pressed his face against her shoulder and hummed. He wondered if his blood was moving fast enough to blush. He was cold, yes (he was always cold this time of year), but that hadn’t been why… “Go back to bed, Luka. It’s warmer in there.”

“Come with me?” he asked, nuzzling against her. He kissed the dip where her neck met her shoulder, and he smiled when he felt the chill race through her that time. “Please? You were gone _all day_. I misssssed you.”

She squirmed against him, and he could feel the warmth of her face against his chest. A low, hissing chuckle escaped him, and he slid an arm under her knees to hold her against him as he went to move.

“But…” she tried to protest, looking back at her basket.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, bumping his forehead against her. “Please?”

Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, and she sighed as she rested her head on his chest. Her ear settled above his heart, and she snuggled against him. He paused, halfway back to their nest, to take a moment to hold her closer, curling around her. He would have stayed there, sinking back into his coils and basking in her warmth, had she not started squirming again and reminded him that they’d get cold soon. Once in their nest, she pulled away from him just long enough to remove her dressing gown. She joined him again, and he sank back into the pillows and blankets as she snuggled into his chest, her back pressed against him and his arms around her. He shifted, his tail moving to curl around her ankle, and she giggled as her hands found his own and squeezed.

“You know…” she started, but her voice sounded so distant to his tired mind. He hummed sleepily, loving the feeling of her fingers drawing lazy lines against his arm. “I found some mistletoe in the woods earlier…”

He shifted, pressing his lips to her hair and staying there when he realized he was too comfortable to move. She had just said something. Mistletoe?

“A lot of it, actually. It was beautiful. You don’t have a problem with mistletoe, right?” she asked, squirming a bit to look up at him. He mumbled sleepily into her hair, the mumble turning into a displeased hiss when she turned in his arms. “It’s just…it wards off bad spirits, and I’m not saying you’re _bad_ , but it can also affect some nonhumans poorly. I knew a Lycan in the Citadel, you see, and I had to stop hanging it up because she would get _so sick_ , and I was hoping the same wasn’t true of the snakefolk because I really wanted to make a kissing bou…Luka?”

He didn’t have the strength to answer. His eyes were so heavy. He had only caught about…probably not even half of what she had said, anyway. Something about mistletoe and kissing? He figured it had something to do with this Yule of hers, and if it meant more Marinette kisses he supposed he would like it, but for now he just wanted to rest. He felt her moving again, but instead of pulling away she snuggled closer. He felt her lips brush against the underside of his jaw, her hand fisting over his heart. The fabric of her gown slid against him as her leg moved, her knee pressing into his hip as she pushed herself up to his ear.

“Silly snake,” she whispered, kissing the shell of his ear. “I hope you’re ok with it. I want to make you a kissing bough, Luka. I kind of really like kissing you.”

Which was…good? He _kind of really liked_ kissing her, too. More than kind of really liked. He…

“I…” she continued, pausing uncertainly. She ducked her head against his neck, and he could feel her skin warming. “I think I love you, Luka.”

…she pressed another kiss to his skin before settling back into their nest, back against him, and he wondered if his heart was actually racing or if he was just imagining it was. If she could feel the way it had fluttered at her words. He knew he loved her – knew she loved him, of course she did, she was his _mate_ – but she hadn’t actually said the words until now. He wasn’t even sure if he had. Surely he had? Surely he had told her? And what did she mean, _think?_ They were mated. They loved each other…they…

“…I love you,” she whispered from where she had snuggled against his chest, her small hand sliding along his side and around his back, up so her fingers could curl against his shoulder. He didn’t remember much after that, his sluggish mind drifting off under the lazy brushes of her fingers against his skin, in his hair, her lips against the hollow of his throat…

He dreamed of the sun, of Marinette stretched out along the rocks by the river as she basked in its warmth, of her breathy giggles and emboldened declarations of love as he moved above her, the sun warming his back even as her nails drug along his skin and his…

The winter nights were long, and her Yule would be the longest yet, but there was always the promise waiting with the dawn. The sun was coming again, and soon it would be spring, and then…


	2. Summers Hold the Shortest Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer Solstice is fast approaching, and Luka is eager to share it with his new mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will inevitably reach a point where I have to timeline this ‘Verse bc of how out of order I did everything. Initially this was gonna be Pt4, but I’m trying to behave with my chronology this time… xD (What? I'm STUPID for nonlinear storytelling. :D)
> 
> Rating goes up a bit here, but besides a slightly tipsy handjob it’s all fade-to-black.

“…wait. What?”

Luka looked up from the yarn looping between his hands. Marinette had paused her knitting, blinking at him with…he didn’t like the look in her eyes. She looked…she almost looked _scared_.

“You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice small, and _oh._ Oh, no. Never…he surged forward, the yarn falling from his arms as he reached for her face and kissed her deeply. She scrambled to drop the needles, her project falling to the side as her hands came up to flutter against his sides. She whined when he pulled back, so he stayed close and pressed his forehead against hers, bumping them together lightly.

“Only for a time,” he said, “and I want you to come with me. I am not _leaving_ , Marinette. Never that.”

Hadn’t they already had this discussion? She loved to call him a _silly snake_ , but honestly…she was the silly one. Clearly he hadn’t spent enough time convincing her of his affections, of his commitment to _them_. He would have to remedy that…

“L-Luka!” she laughed when he kissed her again, bending her back towards the blanket she had laid out by the front garden. His hand slid along her side, finding her hip and tugging her against him. “I’m trying to work!”

“It can wait,” he murmured against her skin, but when she squeaked out of pain instead of pleasure he pulled back. She groped about the blanket for her knitting needles, holding them up with a pointed look. He just grinned at her. He was sorry she had accidentally gotten hurt, but he wasn’t sorry for trying to distract her.

“ _Later_ ,” she said firmly, and he sighed before stealing a final kiss. He moved away after, though, taking her hand to help her sit up. He picked the yarn back up, and at least she was smiling again when she resumed her knitting. “Sooo…where are we going, then?”

“Ssssolssssticcce,” he said. She raised her head again, and he grinned at her, flashing a bit of fang in his smile.

“The summer solstice? But that’s still…goodness, at least three weeks away,” she said. He nodded.

“The family converges for the cccelebratiiion,” he said. “I…have not been able to find my mother, but I am assssuming ssshe will be there. And my father. You have met Juleka and Rose.”

Her cheeks darkened at the memory, and his smile widened. He hadn’t been long out of his brumation when his sister had tracked him down. She had been _furious_ with him, as she had initially arrived at his cave to find it deserted and had assumed the worst. He had…admittedly been a little _busy_ and hadn’t actually told her about the mating or his relocating. Rose had been _ecstatic_ and had quickly spirited his mate away for some _sisterly bonding_ while his sister had ripped him a new one.

He hadn’t really been able to feel _that_ bad about it, as the time since winter’s end had been spent lost in Marinette. Her kind would call them _newlyweds_ , saying this was their _honeymoon period_. Juleka had called him a _horny bastard_.

(…which was only partly true. While he would never pass up an opportunity to make love to his amazing mate, there were also certain… _biological factors_ that had come into play. His body had seemed to be working overtime to make up for the long winter, entering a heat barely a week out of the brumation. Marinette hadn’t seemed to mind, and neither had left the cottage much for the week and a half that had followed.)

“You had mentioned something about Solstice, during Yule,” she said, drawing him out of his memories. The soft _snicking_ of her needles filled the quiet between them. “I…actually kind of forgot about it. You never mentioned it again.”

“You are very dissstracting,” he hummed, grinning. “It ssslipped my mind a bit.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a fond smile on her lips. It took a lot to not lean forward and kiss it off her.

“I was hoping…I want you there, Marinette,” he said. He reached out, laying a hand on her knee and squeezing. She shifted a bit, glancing up at him with a smile. He stroked a claw along her knee, returning the smile, before withdrawing his hand. “With ussss. My father should be there, as well. I want…I want to introduccce you to everyone. And…I know human matings are more…ccceremonial than the sssnakefolk’sss, and I was hoping…”

“…you want to have a human wedding?” she gasped, pausing her work as she looked up at him. He nodded. He hadn’t seen the point, at first, but the more he had thought about it…it was something that was important to Marinette. It was how things were done for her kind, and after the misunderstanding with how the snakefolk did things…he wanted to cover all of their bases. So there were no more _misunderstandings_.

He wanted her. Forever. And he wanted everyone to know it. If that meant having a human wedding, too, then he would do it.

“It ssseems like an appropriate time,” he said. “The Sssolsssticcce ccccelebratesss new life and rebirth. I would like to cccelebrate our new life together. With my family. With yours, too, if they wan-”

She had tossed her knitting aside, throwing it far enough that the needles wouldn’t get in the way, and had thrown herself at him. He chuckled as he caught her, leaning back to settle on his coils as her legs braced on either side of his tail. Her hands tangled in his hair and she pressed her chest into his, drawing out a needy little sound from him as her tongue slipped into his mouth.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice raspy. “Thank you, Luka.”

She began kissing him again, and they sank back into the blanket, her knitting forgotten for the moment. She could finish it later, just as they could discuss the details of the coming Solstice later…much, much later…

– V –

A shrieking laugh rang out above the music, and Luka turned in time to see his father spin Marinette through the air in a twirl of pale pink skirts and flowers. She was still laughing as she came back down, her arms immediately gripping onto the older naga’s shoulders as if that would keep her earthbound – so of course she was immediately passed off to one of his cousins, who had wrapped his golden tail around her waist to lift her back into the air. She caught his eye on the pass, and they shared a smile above the writhing mass of dancing nagas.

“Well, ssshe _did_ tell Dad ssshe wanted to join the danccce…” Juleka snorted beside him, hiding her smile behind her drink. He bumped his shoulder against hers, chuckling.

“Lay off,” he said, his eyes finding his mate again and warming at the site of her radiant smile. “Ssshe’s gorgeousss.”

Jagged threw his arms up, surging above the others with a shout as he started the next round of song – like he hadn’t already started the last six, the showoff. Luka and Juleka joined in with the others, their voices raising in an answering call before their father made his way towards the band, picked up his lute, and left the dance to lead the songs. Marinette had found herself on the shoulders of two younger cousins, both of whom were singing loudly (and slightly off-key). Her eyes found his again, her smile warming as she reached a hand back to him.

“Oh, go sssave her, you sssap,” Juleka huffed. “Like you aren’t dying to ssssneak off ssssomewhere. Like you haven’t been going at it like rabbitssss sssinccce –”

“Juleka!” he hissed, eyes narrowed, but she just smirked as Rose’s call had her finding her own mate in the dance. She wasn’t wrong, but she still didn’t have to be so… _base_ about it. Juleka’s tail flicked against him as she moved away, and he hissed at her again. Before he could go after her, Marinette barreled into him with a giddy burst of laughter. He looked down to find her blue eyes shining up at him, a wide, toothy smile curling her lips as her chin rested on his sternum. The flower crown she had woven for the little ceremony they’d held earlier in the day – at sunrise, on the cliff overlooking the sea, surrounded by her parents and his father and sisters, to “start their new life with the First Sun” – had turned cockeyed at some point in the dance, and he chuckled as he reached up to straighten it. She had charmed the blossoms to preserve them, wanting to hold onto the crown as a keepsake of their wedding, but a few petals still fluttered loose to dust her bare shoulders. His hands chased them, caressing her as they slid over her shoulders and down her back, pulling her closer.

“Dance with me,” she entreated breathlessly. He lifted her up, and she laughed into his kiss. “Luka, please? _Dance with me._ ”

She didn’t have to ask him again.

A joyous laugh bubbled out of her as he spun her, but he pulled her back in before one of his cousins could pull her away. They moved among the throng of his family, but he held her close the entire time, refusing to release her to the others – until Rose grabbed one of her hands and his dad grabbed his, pulling him onto the little stage the band was performing on to join on the next song. His laugh tapered into a hiss when he caught the look she was sending him as Rose spun her away.

She wasn’t pleased that their dance had been cut short, but she had always been fascinated by his playing, the way his fingers would dance along the strings of his instrument as he chased after that perfect tune…

His eyes followed her as she moved through the crowd, losing herself in the revelry even as he lost himself in the music. And while he’d rather be losing himself in _her_ , he couldn’t deny that he was having a blast. It had been too long since he had played with his family – with his _father_ , who was usually gallivanting off somewhere with his mother and had missed the past three Solstice celebrations – and it was good to hear their music again. He was surrounded by joy, and warmth, and love, and he was dizzy on it all.

By the time he was able to escape his overly (easily)-excited father and the rest of the band, the sun was setting. He had lost sight of Marinette at some point, as the dancers had wandered off in smaller groups to enjoy the food and conversation by the buffet tables. When he finally found her, she was with Rose and Juleka. Juleka was resting on her stomach, picking at some grapes as she flipped through a book, with Rose and Marinette reclining against her tail as they dozed. He smiled fondly as he bent to brush Marinette’s hair away from where it had spilled over her face. Even in sleep, her cheeks were still rosy from the day (and the drink, he thought as he noticed her nearly-empty wineglass). Juleka smirked at him, and he pretended not to notice.

“I think we exxxhausssted her,” his sister said, looking back to the book she had been reading. “Oopssss.”

“Ssssshe looked like ssshe was having a good time,” Luka said, his hand still brushing through her hair as he settled beside her. “I wanted her to enjoy herssself.”

“You found a good one, Luka,” Juleka said, glancing over at them. “I like her.”

“Ssshe likesss you,” he chuckled. Marinette stirred beneath his touch, blinking sleepy eyes up at him. His smile warmed as her hand came up to catch his wrist.

“You left me,” she said, and he chuckled before bending to kiss her.

“I’m sssorry, love,” he said. “My father is…”

“Demanding,” Juleka snorted, and they all shared a laugh at that. They could still hear Jagged in the distance, whooping and hollering for _one more, lads, come on!_

“We hardly got to dance,” she mumbled. She started to push herself up, making Rose grumble as she tried to pull her closer. Luka swatted at Rose’s hands and pulled Marinette towards him, settling her in his lap. “I loved your singing, though. You have such a pretty voice.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling her shoulder, “but I would have preferred being with you. I was looking forward to dancccing with you.”

“Dance with me now,” she said, giggling as she twisted in his arms. She straddled his tail, pressing her chest into his own. He sucked in a breath as she peppered little kisses along his jaw, down his neck, until she was nuzzling her face against his shoulder. “My Luka. All mine.”

“Your mate might be a _little_ drunk,” Juleka snickered. She shot them a look, flicking the tip of her tail against the back of his head. She curled her tail around Rose before he could retaliate, but with a lapful of amorous Marinette he honestly wasn’t entirely interested in retaliating. At least not just then. He didn’t even catch Juleka’s unrepentant smirk. “ _Oopssss_.”

“Luka,” Marinette sighed, her hand slipping to his waist. Her fingers curled along the sash of the sarong he had worn for the occasion, the golden chains clinking as she moved. “Did I tell you how beautiful you were today?”

“Isn’t that my line?” he chuckled, catching her hand before it could drift any lower. Not here, beside his sisters and in plain sight of the rest of his family. “ _Marinette_ …”

“So beautiful,” she sighed. “There with the sunrise setting your hair on fire. The gold of your belt shining. I prefer you naked, but you clean up nice.”

Juleka snorted a little louder, her hands coming up to clap over her mouth. He could tell by her squinting eyes she was grinning at them, though.

“You need to ressst, love,” he chuckled, trying to ignore the way her words made his heart flutter. “You’re deliriousss, and I think Juleka is right. A little drunk.”

“I only had the one glass,” she huffed. She leaned back, her eyes moving as she considered. “And the two before that.”

He tried not to laugh, but a soft, hissing chuckle did escape him. Marinette could barely hold human alcohol, and naga wine was _much_ more potent. He hadn’t thought to warn her, as she was well aware of her limitations and usually stayed away from the stuff. Today _had_ been a special occasion, though, and she probably hadn’t even thought when her new family pressed the glasses into her hand. She cuddled up against him, and he sighed as he scooped her up. He nodded at Juleka.

“We’ll ssssee you tomorrow,” he said. “My mate needs to ssssleep thissss off.”

He took her back towards his parents’ cave, where they were staying with Juleka and Rose during the celebration, but before they could start on the path leading down to the beach she had begged he take her back to the cliff where they had started their day instead.

“Please, love?” she had asked, nuzzling him. “The sun’s going down. I want to watch the sunset with you, and watch the stars, and…”

Which is how he found himself on his back by the cliff that overlooked the ocean, the sun long since set and the stars dancing, ignored, above them. The last rays of the sun’s light had just slipped below the horizon when she had turned towards him, her hand cupping his cheek and pulling his face down so his mouth could meet her own. It wasn’t long before she had climbed on top of him, and then he was sinking back into the grass, the end of his tail dangling over the cliff as his hands slipped under her dress and found her hips. He held her against him as her kisses grew more heated, his hips rocking up into her own. Her hands found his belt again, fidgeting distractedly – unsuccessfully – with the clasp as she moved against him. When the clasp proved too much of a challenge, she dropped her hand to the part in the fabric, but with her sitting over his slit – sitting on the sarong that covered him – she was also unsuccessful in moving that. She whined into his kiss, and he chuckled before nipping at her lip. He twisted, rolling them so that she was on her back instead, but when his hand found her hip again he kept it above her dress. She whined as her scrabbling fingers found his belt again, tugging.

“L-Luka…” she gasped, tilting her head up so he could kiss along her neck. His tongue darted out, and she shivered as he licked her. “Touch me…please…”

“It’ssss been a long day, love,” he said, his voice coming out in a low chuckle that had her shivering. He nudged her ear with his nose, smiling against her skin. “And you have had too much to drink. You need to ressst.”

“I need my mate to fuck me,” she pouted, and his chuckle cut off in a sharp hiss when her hand slipped into his sarong and found the bulge beneath his scales. She smirked at him as her fingers dipped into his slit, and his hips bucked against her. “And apparently my mate…my _husband_ …needs to fuck me, too. I’m awake enough. I’m coherent enough. Gods know I’m horny enough…”

“M-Marinette,” he gasped, laughing as she eased his cocks out. He was already more than half-hard (and had been most of the day), his traitorous body always eager for her touch, noble intentions be damned. She pushed herself up on her elbow, biting at his ear and making him hiss again.

“We’re _newlyweds_ , Luka,” she whispered, kissing the spot just below his ear. “This is what newlyweds _do_.”

“We’ve been mated for –” he started to say, but she moved to cut him off with a kiss, and he moaned as her tongue stroked along his own – or maybe it was because of how her hand stroked along one of his cocks, her fingers flicking out to tease the other.

“Since last fall, _I know_ ,” she huffed, and he had to laugh at that.

“Sssince the ssstart of ssspring,” he conceded, making her smile.

“Since the end of fall,” she said, releasing his cock to lay a hand against his cheek. His eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch. His smile grew, and she kissed him again. “But that was _mated_. We’re _married_ now. It’s…gods, it’s dumb, but…”

“But…?” he asked. She sighed as she laid back on the grass, her hand sliding from his cheek to his neck to pull him down with her. He settled beside her, his arms wrapping around her middle and pulling her against his side. Her head rested on his chest, her ear above his heart, as her hand drifted down his stomach. She stopped before reaching his cocks, though, and they just laid there in the quiet of the night. “Marinette?”

“It feels _different_ ,” she said. She tipped her head up to look at him. “I know we’re _mated_ – we have been for ages – and that this… _us_ … _me_ …this is it for you. For me, too. But…I don’t know. Maybe it’s a human hang-up, but knowing that we’re _married_ – officially, legally, by human law, too…it feels like it’s more real? More _permanent_.”

“It’ssss been permanent, Marinette,” he said, pulling her up for a kiss. He hissed when her leg moved over him, bumping into his cocks as she hooked it over his waist. “I told you: naga mate for life.”

“I know,” she said. He grunted as she tried to crawl back on top of him, but a gentle hand against her shoulder had her settling back against his side. Her head dropped back on his chest, her fingers drawing lazy patterns by her cheek. Her leg stayed hooked around him. “I told you it was dumb. It just…it feels different.”

“Good different or bad different?” he asked quietly, and she giggled before flicking his nipple. A jolt ran through him, and she kissed his chest.

“Always a good different, with you,” she hummed. “I love you, Luka. Today was amazing. Thank you for…for everything. For staying. For wanting me. For including me in your family. For humoring my…human-ness.”

“Loving you is easy, Marinette,” he said, tightening his arms around her. He dropped a kiss against her hair, and she tipped her head back a bit more to catch his lips. “Thank you for wanting _me_. For choosing sssomething…”

“There was never a choice,” she said, kissing him again. “It was just… _you_ , Luka. Once I found you, I couldn’t imagine my life without you. I still can’t.”

He kissed her, because words seemed so… _inadequate_ , all of a sudden. Not enough. Never enough. She settled back against his side, nuzzling her cheek above his heart even as he nuzzled her hair. He smiled at that, the little shows of affection that were so commonplace among his kind. That he had shown to her and she now returned in kind. His mate. His _wife._

And yes, maybe it was dumb, because maybe there really wasn’t a difference…but he supposed she was right. It did feel different. More…complete. More whole.

They laid there the rest of the night and well into the morning, even as the sounds of the revelry on the beaches below called them out of their sleep. She woke him with more kisses, easily divesting him of his sarong now that she was awake and clear-headed, and it was too easy to lose himself in her as the sun rose above them.

The Solstice was over for the year, but the celebrations would still last another few days, and their life together was only just beginning…


	3. The Second Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their second Yule together, and Marinette has more than made up for her lack of decorations the previous season. She's also excited to show Luka the Kissing Bough she made, though he's not entirely sure he likes it yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no intention of bringing Dingo into this ‘verse, but the idea that – if I did – he’d be a werewolf that checks in on Mari from time to time during the winter, when Luka’s too sleepy to feel like he can protect her properly, just to be warded away every Yule because of copious amounts of mistletoe amuses me to NO END. “T’way with ye, mangy beast!” (Also the E rating comes into play here.)

Luka was alone when he woke, but he knew he wasn’t _alone_.

There was the smell of something baking in the main room, above the usual scent of the fire, and he smiled as he burrowed deeper into the cushions of their nest. He could also hear his mate humming, sometimes singing in her low, clear voice. There was a gentle glow coming from the main room, slipping past the slit in the curtain, and he blinked sleepy eyes as he tried to focus on it. There was another smell. Something…fresher? Like the woods outside. Like…

He was so tired, but his curiosity was winning out. He sluggishly pushed himself up and slithered to the curtain, yawning before he moved it back.

He blinked in stupefied surprise as he saw the main room.

Marinette had gone…a little overboard.

He had dimly been aware of the approach of the winter Solstice, of Yule, but only so much as it meant that summer was coming. The year before, he had slept through most of it – and they had been besieged by a terrible blizzard, so she had never actually made it out for more… _decorations_ (because she had been trying to decorate – he did remember that much). With the weather holding steady this year, she was clearly trying to remedy that.

Strands of evergreens, the piney boughs twisted with holly and mistletoe and red and gold ribbons, lined the windows and door. Large red bows had been affixed to them, adding to the festive look. Another strand of garland had been placed along the mantle (because he would never use a word like _strewn_ , as Marinette was never careless enough to… _strow…_ things…), and a host of white candles were scattered in its boughs. A wreath, twisted from twigs and pine and holly and accented with pinecones and little golden bells and its own cheerful red ribbon, hung from the door.

There was another fixture, a hooped design of holly and ivy decorated with bright red apples and multicolored glass baubles and secured with more mistletoe at the base, hanging from the ceiling near the table. There were two figures – they looked like…gingerbread men, he believed she had called them, only one was clearly female and the other was a naga – hanging amidst the baubles in the middle of the decoration, inside the hoops. It was hanging low enough that Marinette would be able to reach the mistletoe at the bottom if she stretched, but still high enough that even he could easily pass under it. It was hung prominently in the center of the room, as if it were the main decoration everything else was pointing towards.

The table was mostly clear, apart from her usual craft supplies, except for a trio of candles wreathed in more pine and holly in the center. That seemed to be a central theme in her decorating: candles littered their home, along the windows, the ledges, the counters. A small tree stood in the corner near the fire, decorated with strands of holly berries and candles and pinecones and more red bows and golden ribbon.

It was beautiful, yes, but it was admittedly more…crowded? Busy? _Decorated_ than he had ever seen their home before. His sleep-addled mind was taking a moment to adjust.

Marinette stood with her back to him, still humming as she worked on something he couldn’t see on the counter. When she heard him moving, she turned to him with a bright smile, dusted her hands off on her apron, and ran over to him. She caught his face and pulled him down to meet her for a quick kiss, giggling as she pulled away.

“That one’s a freebie,” she said, her voice teasing and a little breathless. He pulled her back to him, unsure and uncaring what she had meant by _freebie_ , flicking his tongue against her own as he deepened the kiss.

“You tassssste like cccccinnamon,” he murmured, licking her lips as he started to pull away – but she was delicious, and he found himself kissing her again. She laughed and pushed him back, slapping his bare chest lightly.

“L-Luka!” she laughed, turning her head when he tried to steal another kiss. He ducked his face against her shoulder, and she giggled again as her fingers threaded through his hair. His tongue darted back out, flicking against the skin of her neck. Her collar was lower than it usually was in the winter (the cottage was warmer than usual for this time of year, he assumed because of whatever she had needed the cinnamon for), and he could taste cinnamon there, too.

“You’re delicccciousssss,” he murmured. Her laugh was a little breathier that time, catching in her throat when his hand smoothed over the back of her dress and over her ass, tugging her against him.

“I’m baking,” she said, squirming as he nuzzled closer. She gasped as he bent her a bit too far back, her arm locking around his neck to keep herself from falling over – as if he would ever drop her, silly little witch… “Luka…!”

“You’re warm, and you tassste like ccccinnamon,” he hummed, skimming his claws along her side. She shivered against him, and he grinned. “I could eat you up, Moussssinette…”

“No, you could not,” she huffed, pushing against his chest. “Not until…”

He pulled back enough to give her a sinful little smirk, his eyebrows lifting as high as he could get them. Her face burst with color, and he knew she was remembering the week prior, when Rose had drugged her tea and he had awoken to find Marinette writhing over him as she pleasured herself. When he had laid her back on his tail and _had_ eaten her up, brumation be damned.

He was eager to do so again.

“I’m _busy_ , you incorrigible snake,” she said. He straightened, and even though her feet were back on the ground he still didn’t let her go. His thumb brushed lazy strokes along her hip, his claw snagging occasionally on the ties of her apron.

“You kisssssed me firssssst,” he said. He bent to steal another kiss, but she held her hand up to block his lips. He pouted at her, and she giggled and pointed up. His eyes followed her finger to a sprig of white-berried mistletoe hanging jauntily from the ceiling above the entrance to their nest. He looked back at her, a question in his eyes, and she smiled as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“It’s mistletoe,” she said, as if that wasn’t obvious. Of course it was. He knew what mistletoe was, he just didn’t understand what it had to do with kissing. She hesitated a moment as she leaned back on her heels. “You…you are ok with mistletoe, right? You never actually told me, but I never actually got back out to cut it last year, so…it won’t hurt you, right?”

“Missstletoe will not hurt me,” he said, bending to bump his chin against her forehead. She was smiling when he leaned back. “But what does missstletoe have to do with kisssssing?”

She blinked at him, her mouth forming a small _‘oh’_ after a moment. She reached up for the sprig, and he pushed her up with his tail when her fingers just brushed the tips of the plant. She smiled gratefully at him as he lowered her, though she remained seated on his raised tail. She spun the little plant thoughtfully. He wondered at the blush that was once again darkening her cheeks.

“It’s…it’s for protection,” she said after a moment. “It has healing properties, and it wards off bad spirits. And…the berries…um…”

Her blush was darkening, and he smiled as he nuzzled his cheek against her own. Her face was _burning_. He loved it. He loved her pretty blushes.

“What about the berries, little mousssse?” he murmured, and she squirmed as his arms wrapped around her.

“They…they represent…fertility,” she said, the word so quiet he almost couldn’t hear her. He pulled away, his eyebrows quirking again, and she hid her face behind her free hand. “S-sp-specifically the…ah…the semen of the Life-Giver. So it’s…it’s tradition. To kiss. Un-under the mistletoe. To encourage…erm…that is…”

“You ssspeak as if you are unfamiliar with _ssssemen_ ,” he teased, a hissing laugh escaping him. She slapped at his chest again, but he was still laughing when he pulled her in for another kiss. “Peacccce, Marinette. Is that another of your Yule traditiiions? I think I like that one.”

“Of course you would,” she tutted, sticking her nose up primly. She glanced at him, her lips curling in a tiny smirk. “You’re _incorrigible._ ”

“Only for you, love,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. “Always for you.”

“Yes, well –” she started, but a chirping sounded from the counter, interrupting her, and she muttered a curse that had him smiling. She pushed against him, sliding off his tail and pressing the sprig of mistletoe into his hands.

“Can you hang that back up for me? I have to get the gingerbread out,” she said. He nodded as she moved towards the counter, fiddling with a tiny crystal that was shaking and pulsing with a pink light. When she went towards the oven, it had dimmed and the chirping had stopped. With the mistletoe once again hanging from the ceiling, he went to follow her, staying far enough back that she could move the hot pan to the table without burning either of them.

The fresh gingerbread smelled delicious. He was a little put out that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of it. Perhaps he could convince her to make more, once spring arrived…

“You made a lot,” he observed, slithering up beside her as she placed a second pan by the first. There were at least two, three dozen cookies there – and some that were already done and arranged on racks. She hummed, moving back to the counter as they cooled. She began loading another pan with dough, these cookies paler and cut from a log. He lingered by the table, wanting to give her room to work.

“Mmm,” she hummed, moving the first pan of dough aside and reaching for a second. “Rose is going to join me for dinner the eve before Yule, and I wanted some for her. I’m also planning on heading into the village tomorrow – _stop it_ ,” she tutted when he hissed, glancing over her shoulder and leveling her knife at him. “You know I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. It’s just a short trip, and the weather has been _fine_ this year. I’m making Yule baskets for our friends.”

“I know. I still worry,” he said. Her expression softened, and she put her knife down before quickly washing her hands. She then crossed the room to him, laying her hands on his shoulders and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.

“You worry needlessly, but I appreciate that you do,” she said. Her eyes darted up to the ceiling, and he followed her gaze to find the intricate decoration holding more mistletoe was directly above them. She giggled and tugged him down, kissing him deeply. He groaned and pulled her closer, sinking back into his coils and attempting to take her with him. He knew she was busy, but his sluggish winter brain wanted nothing more than to carry her back to their nest, where they could curl up in the warmth and sleep the rest of the day away. She giggled and slipped away, reaching up to the mistletoe and plucking a bright, white berry off the plant. His eyebrows rose, and she winked at him. “That one had to cost you. Be grateful I didn’t take _two_.”

“Cosssssst…?” he asked, remembering her words from earlier. _That one’s a freebie._ What on earth was she talking about? She pecked a kiss against his cheek, considered him a moment, then plucked another berry from the plant. She giggled and spun away as he reached for her, heading back to the counter to finish slicing her cookie dough. “Marinette! What do you mean, _cosssst?_ ”

“It’s a kissing bough, Luka,” she said. She sucked in a breath as he slithered up behind her, his arms wrapping around her middle and his face nuzzling her shoulder. “It’s…you hang it up during Yuletide, and you steal kisses beneath it.”

“I’m liking it sssso far,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her shoulder. She swatted at him, giggling as she nudged him back.

“I told you: you kiss under mistletoe, so at the bottom of the kissing bough you hang a bunch of mistletoe. You then take a berry for every kiss, and when the berries are gone, _no more kisses_ ,” she tutted, reaching back to tap his nose. “Silly snake.”

“…what?” he asked, lifting his head to blink at her. No more kisses? He didn’t think he liked that part. She was smirking, still methodically slicing the dough and arranging it on the baking sheet. His eyes darted back to the… _kissing bough_ , quickly counting the berries on the mistletoe at the base. Even if he was missing some of the smaller berries hidden in the leaves, there were only a handful of berries at best there. His brow furrowed in a frown as he looked back at her. Did she honestly expect him to be content with only a handful of kisses…? And for how long? How…

She picked up one of the pans and turned slightly, pausing to look up at him. She smiled when she noticed his frown and darted up to press a kiss against his cheek. She winked at him, easily slipping from his arms to put the pan in the oven. He was still blinking at her as she reached for the other one.

“That can be a freebie, too,” she teased. She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling mischievously. She was bent towards the oven, her ass raised invitingly. Gods, he loved that ass… “You better ration your kisses, Luka.”

…he loved that ass, but if he only had a limited number of kisses to give her before…

“What…what happens when the berries are gone?” he asked, watching her as she picked up the crystal she had enchanted as a timer. She hummed, her eyebrows quirking, and he rolled his eyes. He reached for her, and she giggled as he pulled her back to him. The timer slipped from her fingers, clinking on the counter. “ _Marinette._ What happens when the berries are gone?”

“I told you,” she teased, rubbing her hands along his arms. He was still frowning. “No more kisses.”

“But…but _why?”_ he asked, thoroughly distressed. She was his _mate_. He _loved_ kissing her. And now she was telling him he couldn’t? Because of a silly little _plant?_ “And for how long?”

“Just until Yule, silly,” she said. She went to kiss his cheek, but he leaned back with a hiss. She snickered, her hands lifting to cup his cheeks. “It’s also bad luck if you don’t use all the berries before Yuletide, Luka. It’s only a few nights away…”

“But if I only get sssso many kissssses, I don’t want to wasssste them,” he huffed. It was a shame, really. This was the most awake he’d felt in _months_ , but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been resting so much, how warm it had been recently, or because the threat of limited kisses was annoying him. He could be kissing her right now if he was allowed more than…his eyes flicked back to the kissing bough, counting again. Twenty or so. He heaved an exaggerated sigh, brushing a clawed thumb beneath her eye and dropping his gaze to her lips. Her hands flexed against his face, and he smiled wistfully at her. He hoped it was wistful, at least. With his luck he probably just looked sleepy. “Sssuch a sssshame. After the other night, I was hoping for many more kisssses. But if you inssssisssst.”

She sucked in a breath, and his smile turned a bit more…predatory. It was a smile she was thoroughly unaccustomed to seeing on him in the winter. Her face started to warm under that smile.

“…well,” she coughed a moment later, turning from him and stepping back to the counter. Even the back of her neck was red. If not for that stupid kissing bough, his lips would already be against it. “You’re just going to have to get creative then, aren’t you?”

…all right, then.

She squeaked when he snuck up behind her, his arms wrapping around her middle and drifting dangerously low as he nuzzled her shoulder. He nudged her ear with his nose, chuckling darkly as he ran a claw along her thigh. She squirmed against him, her head dropping back onto his shoulder as he continued to nuzzle her, careful to keep his lips from actually touching her skin. A little whine escaped her, and he chuckled as she pressed herself against him.

“…is that a challenge, Mousssssinette?” he whispered, and she made an indignant little noise that had him wanting to kiss her all over again.

“I told you that’s not becoming a thing,” she huffed. He chuckled again, pressing his nose against the juncture of her jaw and neck and breathing deeply. His fingers toyed with her dress, slowly bunching up the fabric until he finally found her creamy skin underneath. She gasped when he drew a claw upwards and in, his touch light and teasing and meant to make her squirm.

“It’ssss definitely a thing,” he said. He leaned forward, bending her towards the counter when his hand found her core. She squeaked again as he cupped her, his fingers pressing against her underwear. “I wonder if I could make you sssscream. Without using my mouth.”

“We both know you can,” she laughed a little breathlessly, moaning when his other hand reached up to massage her breast, his thumb flicking against her clothed nipple. “Luka…if my cookies burn…”

“Then I ssshall have to be fasssst,” he murmured, slipping two fingers inside her. She whimpered as he steadily pumped them in and out. She could feel his smile pressing into her shoulder, where he was still nuzzling her. “Sssso beautiful. My Moussssinette.”

“Kiss me, Luka,” she whined, whimpering by his ear as she turned her head towards him. He shook his head, pushing his fingers in deeper to find…a keening noise left her, and he grinned. _There_. “Luka…”

“I’m ratiiiioning my kisssses,” he murmured. “If you are demanding _payment_ for them. Heartlesssss witch.”

“You…!” she started, but her words cut off in a yelp as he slid another finger inside and curled them, pricking her gently with his claws. Just the way she liked. He wasn’t sure when her hand had buried itself in his hair, but she gave a sharp tug as her back arched. The hand still fondling her breast squeezed, and she whimpered. “Luka!”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, bumping his forehead against her shoulder. He lifted his head, smirking at her, but her eyes were screwed shut as she rocked against his hand. “Louder, love.”

She ground her ass against him, and he pushed out a shaky breath as he curled closer around her. That had been a dirty move, and she knew it. Her hand left his hair to grip the counter, the other squeezing where it had latched onto his arm. He pushed back, rocking her into his touch and bending her over the counter. Her wetness coated his fingers, making his steady pumping easier. She whined when his other hand left her breast, sliding to her stomach to pull her flush against him.

Gods, he wanted to be inside her…

“You’re…not playing fair,” she panted, twisting her head to brush her lips against his neck. “Dirty snake.”

“That’ssss a freebie, too,” he teased, rubbing a slow circle against her clit and pulling another delicious little whine from her lips. His tongue flicked out, and if it brushed against her cheek he figured _licking_ didn’t count as _kissing_. “ _You_ kissssed _me_.”

“Sod the damn bou- _oooh,_ ” she cried, jolting as he pressed harder against that nub. She bent forward, her fist thumping against the counter. His chuckle was low in her ear, and she groaned as she reached back to lay her hand on his head, holding his mouth to her neck. “I’m so close…”

“Beautiful,” he sighed, grazing his fangs along her skin. He wanted to bite her so bad. He wondered if that would count as a kiss, costing him another berry, and figured he better not chance it. Her nails scratched at his scalp, and he bumped his forehead against her shoulder. “I love you. My Marinette.”

“Then kiss me,” she breathed, her hand sliding to his neck and tugging at the hair there. He raised his eyes to hers, sucking in a breath at how dark they were. “Please, Luka. _Kiss me._ ”

…damn it all.

She squeaked as he spun her, bending her back onto the counter as his mouth caught hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. She hopped slightly, her legs lifting to wrap around his waist, and she laughed into his kiss as he scrambled to catch her before she fell to the floor. Her giggle cut off as he rocked into her, rubbing the ridges of his underbelly against her core, but her breathless gasp was lost to his kiss – as was the moan when the thumb still pressed to her clit began rubbing again. He nipped at her lower lip, and she sighed his name as he began kissing along her neck.

It wasn’t a scream, but he thought it might be better.

“Dirty cheat,” he scolded, and her answering laugh was breathless. Her head fell back as he nipped at her shoulder. It wasn’t as satisfying with the fabric of her dress covering her delicious skin. He nosed along her neck again, his tongue darting back out to lick at the cinnamon. Gods, she tasted divine… “Whatever am I to do, if you make me use up all my kissssses?”

“S-silly…ah…silly snake,” she gasped, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. He hissed as her thumb rubbed along his nape, before he pumped his fingers back into her core and her fingers were pressing into his neck as another gasp left her. He moved back to her lips, smiling as he hovered above her mouth, moving just out of reach when she tried to kiss him again. “Lu…mmfff!”

He swallowed her shout with a kiss, rubbing a harsh circle against her nub and thrusting his fingers deep inside her. Her legs locked around him, her hips jerking as he continued to rub. He could feel her walls pulsing, shuddering around his fingers – and then a low whine slipped around their kiss, and her arm wrapped around his neck to pull herself against him, and her entire body trembled as her release washed over her.

Just as her little crystal started chirping again.

He chuckled into their kiss, smiling as she continued to shake. She tugged on his hair, but she made no effort to move away from him, even as her body started to relax. His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as he sank back on his tail. She watched him through hooded eyes – beautiful, dark, _happy_ eyes – as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and licked.

“You’ll get a stomach ache doing that,” she chided, her voice hazy. He grinned and nudged her jaw with his nose.

“Never with you,” he said softly, hissing out a laugh when she nuzzled her head against the crook of his neck. “Your cookies, Moussssinette.”

“You get them,” she said. “I feel too good to move right now.”

…a proud little thrill ran through him at that, but he knew she would never forgive him if he actually did let her cookies burn. Still, it would be difficult to safely remove them from the oven with an armful of Marinette. He kissed her shoulder and raised himself back to the counter, scooping her up and sitting her by the sink. She leaned back against the wall, smiling as she watched him move to the oven. He was bent towards the door when he felt something brush along his tail, and he looked back to see she was brushing her toes against his scales. She smiled stupidly at him, and he felt himself smiling in return.

The crystal was still chirping. He didn’t think either of them was paying it much mind.

With the oven empty and the cookies safely on the table, he slithered back over to her. He moved between her legs, lifting himself up enough that he could fold his arms over her lap and rest his chin there. He grinned up at her, trying to ignore the rather distracting scent of her arousal. He was getting sleepy again, and he didn’t want to start anything he wasn’t sure he’d be able to finish.

…no matter how delicious she smelled.

Her hand found its way into his hair again, and he hummed as she scratched along his scalp.

“Sssso,” he hummed, lifting his head into her touch and closing his eyes as he breathed deeply. His eyes opened halfway, a lazy smirk curling his lips as he looked up at her. “How many kisssses did that cosssst me, hmmm?”

She snorted out a giggling laugh, and he couldn’t help but join her as she tried to pull him up towards her for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her instead, lifting her with ease and pulling her off the counter. She settled on his tail and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He stayed coiled by the counter, where it was still warm from the lit oven and the fire in the grate, though he did settle them into a more comfortable position. Her legs dangled over a loop in his tail, and he ducked her head beneath his chin as she snuggled into him. Her arms dropped to wrap around his chest, her fingers spreading across his back. He smiled when she pressed a kiss above his heart. He wondered if she was going to answer his question – if that extra little kiss would be added to his tab.

“You silly snake,” she chided. She looked up at him, that mischievous little twinkle back in her eye. “Technically the kissing bough is used during the Yule feast, when everyone is gathered together. It doesn’t work as well if there’s just two of you.”

“But you ssssaid…” he started, but she cut him off with another kiss, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek and guide his mouth to her own. She was still grinning when she pulled back.

“Yes, you take a berry for every kiss,” she said, “and it _is_ bad luck if you don’t get a kiss or use them all. And you _are_ supposed to burn it once the berries are gone, or it’s also unlucky. But the whole idea of taking the berries is to determine who hosts the feast the next Yuletide.”

“But that’ssss not what you ssssaid before,” he said. He could feel himself pouting, but he didn’t much care. “You ssssaid I only got twenty or sssso kisssssses until Yule.”

“No,” she said, her grin turning into a smirk as she laid her head back against his chest. “I said the kissing stops when the berries run out. I never said why or for how long – my timer went off, remember? You filled in those blanks all on your own, you _silly snake_.”

He hissed, displeased at being tricked, but her happy giggles were a balm to his annoyance. Still, he picked her back up and, in a quick movement (at least for him, at least for winter), had stretched her back along his tail, uncoiling a bit to give them more room. She squeaked, a breathless little laugh escaping her as he hovered over her. He slipped his fingers through her own, squeezing her hands where he’d pinned them on either side of his tail.

“Tricky little witch,” he hissed, dipping his head to kiss the side of a breast. She was still entirely too clothed for his liking. He wondered how mad she would get if he just…ripped her dress off of her. They could retire to their nest, where it was warm and cozy and she would have no need for silly things like _clothes_. “Making me think I couldn’t kisssss you…”

“I _told_ you to kiss me,” she laughed, grinning as he continued to nuzzle her chest. She was so soft…so warm… “ _Begged for it_ , even.”

He hummed, and she squirmed beneath him. He raised his eyes to her, smiling as she looked past him to the kissing bough.

“…I just think they’re pretty,” she finally said. She looked back him, her eyes still twinkling. “That’s also where the whole mistletoe and kissing thing comes from. The berries may represent the Life Giver’s essence, but mistletoe became associated with kissing because of the boughs. Maman makes the prettiest ones. I tried my best, though.”

“It’sssss beautiful,” he murmured, nudging her breast with his nose. “As are you.”

“Smooth-talker,” she admonished. He moved to hover above her, smiling down warmly at her as he brushed his fingers against her cheek.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he murmured. “My beautiful Marinette.”

Her cheeks were pinking again, a soft smile curling her lips. He bent his head towards her, but he paused a breath away from kissing her.

“Sssso…jusssst ssssso we’re clear…kisssses _aren’t_ limited?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice despite the honest question. She laughed, her hand pinching where it had fallen on his waist. He smirked.

“Incorrigible,” she reprimanded. She lifted her head, kissing him when he wouldn’t close the distance between them. “I was _teasing_ you, Luka. I’ll be quite cross with you if you actually stop kissing me. I love your kisses. I love you.”

“I love you,” he sighed, nuzzling her neck. She was brushing her fingers through his hair again, and he could feel the warmth and her gentle touches and soft body lulling him back to sleep. He felt his body relaxing against her, felt her leg shift to press her knee against his side, the sole of her foot flattening against his scales.

“Besides,” she said quietly, bending to kiss the crown of his head. He tried to move his head to bump against her, but the motion was more of a twitch than anything. She giggled and kissed him again. “I don’t want to remove _all_ the berries, not quite yet. I think they’re pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty,” he mumbled, making her laugh again. “Ssstay with me? Sssssleep?”

“For a bit,” she said, tugging his hair lightly. He hummed, his tail shifting beneath them. “My cookies still have to cool, after all.”

…she was still wrapped around him when he woke hours later, the contented smile on her face illuminated by the dying fire’s glow.


	4. A Yuletide Gift for Years to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the coldest winter in years, and Luka can barely stay awake. He's awake enough to realize something strange is going on with his mate, though...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is set sometime after Winters Pt3, though not necessarily immediately after? I haven’t figured out yet how long I want them trying before this actually happens. Biiiig shoutout to Quick, who spitballed this with me until it went from a Vague Idea to an Actual Fic. xD (Because there were two directions I could have taken snakelets, and Knit, who got first say since it’s her SS fic, did not care “as long as you let them live”. Because I’ve got a Big Reputation, apparently. xD) 
> 
> Anyway, happy holidays everyone – hopefully everyone found some moment of joy in them. I think we all needed some light after this year. Hopefully y’all found that. Knit, I hope you enjoyed this bit of silliness – and hey, I think I’m wrapping this up right in the middle of another Sprint Challenge? So hey, feel free to join us in the Disco, sprint away, and get showered with encouragement and random, possibly traumatizing gifs! :D

When he awoke, Luka was not alone. He was very much not alone, not that his sleep-addled mind noticed beyond _warm_ and _Marinette_ and _mine_. He woke just enough to curl closer: his tail coiling more firmly around her legs, his arms pulling her to his chest, and his head tucking against that warm spot between her neck and shoulder that always smelled like _home_. If she shifted herself, burrowing closer and pressing her ear above the slow beat of his heart, he was out again before he noticed.

He’d been sleeping a _lot_ that winter. More so than usual. It had been unseasonably cold, worse than it usually was, and the brumation had hit him _hard_ – and early. The Harvest season had barely passed before he’d felt his body slowing down, and he’d spent almost every day since buried under a pile of Marinette’s enchanted blankets in their nest. Not that he had noticed, but Marinette had told him there had been quite a few occasions where he’d slept _days_ without waking (which wasn’t entirely odd, as he’d been known to sleep for a week straight during colder winters, but he usually at least partly woke every day or so). It had concerned her, at first – enough to bring it up to him – but as the temperatures dropped and the snows came a good month ahead of schedule she had worried less. It was colder that year than it had been in years – even colder than their first winter together, when a blizzard had trapped them inside the cottage for at least a week. If Luka was sleeping more, Marinette just assumed it was a natural consequence of the lower temperatures.

She wasn’t worried, and he wasn’t awake enough to worry.

So maybe that was why he didn’t notice, at least not at first. Neither of them had, or at least if _she_ had she hadn’t said anything, and Luka thought it was only natural he hadn’t, given how much he had been sleeping.

Because he didn’t think it was weird if he woke up and Marinette was still beside him. He wasn’t thinking much at all, with how tired he was, but Marinette belonged beside him – she was his mate. He liked her there, so he didn’t question it. And if he really had been sleeping through days at a time, he didn’t think it odd that she was almost always there when he woke. His sleeping pattern was unreliable enough during those months that it was entirely possible he was only waking during times she herself was asleep.

It wasn’t strange.

He wasn’t worried.

Besides, it always looked dark out when he woke. The cottage was old, and drafty, and despite the charms and spells she had placed around their home to keep in the warmth – and the repair work they had done the previous summer to safeguard it against the coming cold – this winter had been especially biting, and it crept in through the cracks. She had been keeping the curtain drawn tight and clipped shut, hoping to keep the nest as warm as possible. He stayed in the dark, dreaming of the sun and summer and praying the season would pass quickly. The light beyond the curtain could just as well be from the cold winter sun as it was from the dying fire.

Luka didn’t know, and for the most part he didn’t care.

He just knew that, in his brief moments of consciousness, Marinette was always there. And he liked that.

He didn’t think anything was _weird_ about it until…admittedly much later than he probably should have.

Because it wasn’t until they had a rare – at least for this particular winter – warm day, when he woke to find their nest was absolutely _stifling_ and Marinette was still wrapped around him, sleeping fitfully, that he was actually coherent enough to wonder at how many times he had woken that way. How much he had possibly missed, when he tried to throw their blanket off and she just whimpered and pulled it closer. When he glanced at the curtain, realizing it had been left cracked the night before, and saw bright, clear sunlight streaming in through the windows of the main room beyond.

Marinette wasn’t exactly what he would call an early riser, but she certainly rose well before the light was _that_ intense.

“Marinette?” he murmured, his voice cracked and groggy from too many days – weeks, months? – of disuse. He placed a hand against her arm, shaking her gently. She grumbled incoherently and rolled onto her back, her head flopping back on the arm he’d propped himself up with. He frowned, shaking her again. “Marinette. Wake up, love.”

Another incoherent grumble left her, and she weakly swatted at his hand – or tried to. Her arm merely twitched, her head turning towards him until her cheek was pressed against his arm. Her face, normally so peaceful in sleep, was contorted into a grimace. He reached up, brushing her bangs away from her face. She felt warm, but she always felt warm – and at moments like these, during winter, she always felt warmer than usual.

…it scared him. He was struck with the thought that she could be sick, gravely ill, and he had been…incapacitated. Too dead to the world to notice. _Sleeping._

He was a horrible mate. Absolutely _useless_. He couldn’t even take care of her. She was suffering, and it was his fault, and…

“…op,” she grumbled. He blinked, shaking his head. Her eyes were still closed, but her hand was holding his own – albeit weakly. She had lifted it away from her face, where he had been unconsciously brushing her hair back as he fretted.

“Marinette?” he asked. She attempted to squeeze his hand before her arm dropped back to her stomach.

“I can hear you thinking,” she mumbled. “My job. Stop it.”

“Marinette, are you all right?” he asked. “You’re warm. The sssssun is out, and you’re sssssstill ssssssleeping.”

“M’tired,” she said. Her mouth opened on a huge yawn, and she blinked blearily at him when she was done. Her eyes seemed dull, but he wasn’t sure if that was because she was tired or ill or… “M’llowed to sleep. You do it all the time.”

A small, hissing laugh – more of a chuckle, really – left him at that, and he settled back down beside her. He kissed her cheek, the backs of his fingers brushing gently down her arm.

“Ssssssomeone’s cranky,” he said with a smile. She humphed and rolled towards him, snaking her arms around his middle and cuddling close.

“Don’t feel good,” she said. “Haven’t been. Tired. Achy. And you stink.”

…what?

She had pulled away from him, her nose crinkling in distaste. She blinked, her lips pressing together strangely – as if she wanted to say more but was…afraid to open her mouth.

“…oh gods,” she groaned, and then she was shoving him away as she scrambled to flee their nest. He tried to help her – to follow – but in her rush she ended up kicking him in the ribs, and he slumped back as he watched her scurry away. A moment later he heard a violent retching coming from the main room. He slithered out of the nest, past the curtain, and found her bent over the kitchen sink, her entire body shaking as she gripped the ledge. She seemed to have emptied her stomach – for now, at least. He went to join her, but she held a finger up at him in a signal to wait.

“Marinette –” he started, but her haggard voice cut him off.

“ _No_ ,” she rasped. She filled a glass with water to rinse her mouth out. She stood there a moment longer, collecting herself as she took some deep breaths. “I’m…I’m ok. I’m good. Just…go back to bed, Luka.”

“…I don’t know _how_ you exxxpect me to sssssleep after _that_ ,” he said, and if he sounded annoyed her answering snap was just as aggravated.

“Oh, I don’t know, the same way you do every winter!” she bit, and he flinched at that. After a moment her shoulders sagged, and she turned towards him – though she still leaned back against the sink, either too weak or too unsteady to trust herself to go to him. “I’m sorry. That was mean. I didn’t mean that. I’m just…I don’t feel good.”

He went to her, reaching up to brush her sweaty hair from her forehead, but her lip curled and her nose scrunched as she leaned away from him.

“Seriously, you’re making me sick,” she groaned, pushing him back. Her hands stayed on his chest, and he curled his fingers around her wrists as he continued to watch her, frowning. “Just…just go back to bed. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to leave her alone, not when she as throwing up and barely able to stand. But she gave him a shaky smile and pushed against him again, and he sighed before bringing one of her hands to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to her palm, and her lips twitched with the barest flicker of a smile.

“If you need me…” he said.

“I’m so sorry, Luka, but right now you’re just making it worse,” she said, shaking her head. He tried not to be offended by that (especially since he thought he smelled fine – no worse than usual, at least?). “I have no idea what’s going on with my nose right now. Your scent has never bothered me before. But you’re making me sick, and I just need you to…go. Over there. Please.”

He didn’t go back to their nest, though he probably should have. Instead, he slithered over to the fire, curling up with his back to the flames and his eyes locked on her. She sighed as he pulled the blanket off her rocking chair, wrapping it around his shoulders and covering his head. He folded his arms over his tail and propped his chin on them, watching her through the gap in the blanket. She rolled her eyes and filled her glass again. She reached out to touch the glass of the window above the sink, and after a moment pressed that hand to her cheek. She was still nursing the water, staring out the window with a small frown, when he nodded off.

– V –

She seemed much better the next time he woke. She was sitting at the table, a steaming mug and a plate of her gingerbread cookies in front of her. He wasn’t sure how long had passed, but it was dark beyond the drawn curtains of the windows. She was writing something, anxiously nibbling on a cookie as she worked.

“…Marinette?” he called softly, and she jumped a little at the sound of his voice. Her face relaxed into an easy smile when she looked over to him, but there was still a glimmer of… _something_ in her eyes. He wanted to call it worry, but he felt he might be projecting.

“About time you woke up,” she teased, putting her cookie down and rising. She crossed over to him and perched on his tail. She reached out to run her hand through his hair, pushing back the blanket that was still covering his head. “I was starting to get worried. I had no clue how I’d get you back in the nest if you didn’t wake soon.”

“How long…?” he asked, the words cutting off in a massive yawn. She giggled and bent to kiss him, but he jerked back with a hiss. She frowned and grabbed his face, holding him steady and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. “M-M-Marinette…!”

“I’m fine,” she said, kissing him again. Her lips pursed a little. “Well, I’m not…I’m writing a healer I know for some advice. I’m sure it’s nothing – _stop looking at me like that, Luka._ ”

He wasn’t sure how he was looking at her, but he imagined it could be described as _worried._ She brushed his bangs back, dropping a kiss to his forehead. She took a deep breath and didn’t vomit, as if to prove her point.

“I’ve just be a little queasy the past few weeks,” she said. Her hand had drifted down to his shoulder, and she squeezed reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Luka.”

“That was not _queasy_ , Marinette,” he huffed, rising to rest his head on her lap. He nuzzled against her stomach, sighing. “That was not _nothing_.”

“Silly snake,” she said softly, bending to kiss his head. He took a deep breath, but that gave him pause. He frowned and took another. She smelled… _different_. Off. Not nauseating, like he had apparently smelled to her, but still…strange. “I told you I’m writing a healer. I still think it’s nothing, but I am a little concerned that it’s persisted so. It’s probably just a winter cold. Us silly humans get those, you know.”

He hummed, but the soothing feeling of her fingers running through his hair – the comforting warmth of her body, her familiar scent (even if it was funny) – was lulling him back to sleep.

“You should go back to the nest, Luka,” she murmured by his ear. “It’s going to get colder, and you’re too heavy for me to easily move on my own. You’ve already been sleeping here since yesterday.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, and she sighed as he nuzzled her stomach – or tried to. “You’re warm enough.”

“Luka…” she sighed, tugging his hair gently.

“Sssstay with me,” he hissed. “Worried. Can’t…keep ssssafe. Like thissss.”

She heaved a heavy sigh and nudged him, and he grumbled as she slid off his tail. He blinked bleary eyes at her, but he smiled when he saw she had dropped to eye-level. She settled back against his tail, sticking her tongue out at him, and he chuckled as he pulled her closer. He nuzzled his head against her chest, resting his ear over her heart beating steady and strong.

– V –

He wasn’t sure when he had dropped off that time, but he knew he must have. He woke much later to find he was back in their nest, huddled under the blankets and buried in his coiled tail, though he couldn’t remember how he got there. He never fully came to, either: he thought he’d heard an excited squeal and giddy laughter, but it was distant and foggy like a dream. When he fell asleep that time, for some odd reason he couldn’t stop thinking about roses.

– V –

He must have slept for a long time after that. Days, at least, if not a good week. Maybe two. Time had been frustratingly fuzzy that winter. When he was next aware of the world beyond their nest, he knew it must be close to Yule. He would have sworn winter had only _just_ started.

But the cottage smelled like pine, and gingerbread, and it only smelled of pine and gingerbread (at least together and that strongly) the week before Yule.

He could hear Marinette humming in the room beyond the curtain, but he was so tired. He remembered she hadn’t been feeling well, though, and that was enough to make him push himself up – or try to. He ended up flopping back against his tail, and he groaned as he tried (and failed) to rise again. He was dimly aware of movement, of the soft glow of candlelight and fire illuminating their nest. His eyes felt so heavy, but he still tried to open them. He had to check on Marinette. He had to make sure she was…

…standing in the gap between the curtains, smiling fondly at him and looking…perfectly fine. Dressed in her heavy nightgown and looking ready for bed. She climbed down into the nest, snuggling against him.

“Silly snake,” he heard her whisper. He felt her lips brush against his cheek. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer and nuzzling his face against her shoulder.

“Feeling…better…?” he murmured groggily. She giggled, bumping her forehead against his chin. She took his hand and laid it against her stomach, and when she pressed her mouth to his jaw it felt like she was smiling.

“You could say that,” she said, laughter in her voice. “How awake are you, Luka?”

He tried to answer, but he only managed some incoherent noise instead. He squirmed when she nuzzled his jaw, her hair tickling his nose. He blinked open his eyes, but he was distracted by the light coming from the crack in the curtains. He could see she had crafted another Kissing Bough, the ornament hanging proudly in the center of the room. There was something different about it this year, though…something…extra?

…there were _three_ figures in the center of the hoops this time, though one was significantly smaller than the other two. Strange.

“Happy Yule, Luka,” she whispered, her lips ghosting along his jaw. Was it really Yule already? Gods, he was tired…but Marinette was still kissing him, or trying to, and she was still holding his hand to her stomach like she wanted him to touch her…

“Mmm’ette…” he slurred, making her giggle. She squeezed his hand and settled on her back, snuggling into his side.

“Sleep, love,” she whispered, brushing her fingers along his cheek. He chased after her touch, or tried to, but only really succeeded in flopping his head onto hers. He felt her fingers dance along his neck, sliding back to brush through his hair. The hand holding his own to her stomach squeezed again. “I hope you’re more awake tomorrow. I have the _best_ Yule gift for you, love…”

He tried to answer her, but really only managed an incoherent mumble as he nuzzled her head. He felt her moving, her warm breath and lips ghosting against his ear. Her voice, soft and soothing and whispering…

“…I hope you’re ready to be a papa.”


End file.
